All I need
by because-it-was-real
Summary: Lucissa oneshot; takes place during Deathly Hallows.


**A/N: I own nothing; these beautiful characters belong to J.K. Rowling. (: **

**All I need**

He nodded at everything she was saying, but didn't take in a word. The food on the plate before him remained untouched, and he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes.

"Lucius?" Her fingers tightened around his hand; her thumb caressing its back. "Are you listening?"  
He didn't react. He couldn't bring himself to lie to her and averted his eyes even further.

"Lucius," she repeated calmly, as she took his head in her palms and forced him to look at her. The dullness of his grey eyes startled her. "I know you didn't listen, so I'm going to repeat myself: I love you, Lucius. I love you, and I want to you talk to me, do you understand?" She shook his shoulders lightly.

He shook his head. There was nothing to say. The less she knew, the better. He knew very well how much his wife loved him; as he loved her. He couldn't tell her about – about –

His breath stuck in his throat and the room suddenly felt very small. He knew it couldn't be true – if he thought about it rationally, it couldn't be true –, but the walls were closing in on him. On the both of them. _No_, they could have him. They could devour him, but they wouldn't have his wife. Never –

"Lucius!"  
A hand on his face, a hand caressing his hair. A calm face with startled eyes. She smiled lightly.

"Tell me," she urged.  
He was shaking. He was shaking and he felt like a bloody idiot. Had he truly been so easily deceived. They were just dreams. Nothing more; nothing to be afraid of. Yet he could feel his hand trembling in his lap. He bit his lip. He felt so incredibly weak, and he didn't want to be weak. He knew what happened to weak people. He had trampled them himself. Was this how he would end – under someone's feet?

"It's not important," he said, yet he couldn't keep his voice from shaking. The images wouldn't leave his mind, clouding his brain with darkness and cold stone.

She took his trembling hands in hers again. "It is. It is to you, and assure yourself that it's important to me as well." She squeezed softly. "I know that you're bothered by nightmares." Involuntary, he tried to free his hands out of hers, but her grip tightened. "We sleep in one bed, Lucius, it's hard to miss," she added.

"I'm sorry," he said under his breath. "I didn't want to –"

"You didn't want me to know, but I did, alright? I _care_ about you, Lucius Malfoy, and it's time you get that into that stupid head of yours." She smiled lightly, but he didn't move a muscle in his face. "I want to know. I want to _help_ you, Lucius."

Now the corner of his mouth turn up a little, but it is was a bitter smile. "I don't think you can help me."

"You can't say that until I've tried," she said stubbornly. "You don't want help, and I understand why. But you don't have to be ashamed, not with me. Please let me try."

He sighed. It was a game he couldn't win. Not when he didn't play the cards anymore. He'd given them away when he'd failed his Lord.

"Tell me what your dream was about last night," she said, her voice softening at the conflicted look on her husband's countenance.

"It's always the same one," he said, a mere whisper, as if he was afraid someone could hear it – which wasn't a weird thing to be afraid of, given the fact that his entire house was crowded with people whose name he couldn't remember half of the time. Narcissa gave an encouraging smile. "I'm in my – my cell. In Azkaban. I can't move, and I can't see. It's as if my muscles are frozen. When I try to shout, no sound leaves my throat." He stopped.  
"What do you want to call for?" she asked, realising she was stepping on dangerous grounds.

He shrugged awkwardly. "The usual. For mercy, for someone to hear me, for anyone to hear me. For help. For you." He coughed. "Then the walls start closing in on me. I can't see it, but I can feel it. And then I die."  
"Are you afraid of death?" his wife asked, and he shook his head.

"No." _But I am afraid of dying. I'm afraid of how I will die, when I will die, and what will be after death. What will be of you and Draco after my death or your own. I'm afraid of losing you. Death itself is nothing to be afraid of. It's a word, a thing. Only what surrounds it gives it its terrible meaning. _

"That's a lie, Lucius. A neat one, but still a lie."  
"I'm fear for what will happen. To all of us, Cissa," he sighed. "I don't know what to do. I can't protect you. I've been stupid. I'm nothing anymore, I'm –"

She cut him off by kissing him softly on his lips. "You are my husband, and that is all I ask of you. My husband, and Draco's father. And you are not perfect. You never have been. No one is, but that's not the point. You're here, and we're together. And that's all I need."

_But for how long_, the voice inside him whispered. _How long until it will all be over? What does the future hold? _He didn't dare to ask the question, but deep down inside he knew the answer: it were his own feet that had trampled him long ago.


End file.
